Behind the Glass
by Shadowing
Summary: Wally moves to Central City. Things change. Friends come in the form of five strange kids at school who have as many bruises as him- though he's pretty sure they're not abused, as well. New family comes in Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris- but his abusive father and ill mother aren't letting him go that easily. And he's (sort of) a thief, which is why he's still stuck behind the glass...


It was almost pretty, Wally mused, fingers tracing lightly over sore bruises on his arm. They were a dark shade of green, edges darkening into deep violet with thin tendrils of light red still aching out. Huge and swallowing, they took up most of his right arm and hurt like hell.

Well. Long sleeved shirts for the rest of this week, then.

But come on; they were pretty. It was the contrast, right? Between- the green, and the, uh, the... skin. Colour. Well, it was colourful. Who could say their _arms _were colourful, right? And tattoos didn't count. And every other abused child with bruised arm colourfulness in this freaking world, whatever.

Meh, shut up.

Wally sighed and stretched, closing his eyes at the sudden wrench of badly done, homemade stitches along his side. When where _they _going to heal? As a speedster, he had fast healing, obviously, and they should've come out by now. Oh god, please say they wouldn't scar. That would be _ugly, _not 'pretty' like the bruises. Dad had done it while drunk and chopping up carrots- Wally had interrupted his making of the dinner and reminded him just how much his son was ruining his family, how much of a _freak _he was, how it was all his fault, the moving and money problems and Mom's sickness- and that was not a memory Wally wanted to recall every time a girl ripped off his shirt.

Pfft. Yes, of course girls were regularly ripping of his shirts. _Duh. _

Wally let out a bored half laugh, just to see if it sounded right in the stillness of their new apartment. It didn't. It bounced off the dust covered walls and small boxes of stuff piled against the door that were all their belongings, resounding desolately out of the cracked window into the slowly darkening new home that was Central City. And yes, they'd moved to Central City. All the places in DC and they had to choose the _one _place that superheroes regularly frequented. Which was not a good idea for Wally, seeing as the fifteen year old speedster made his money off stealing.

Another little fact that was part of his sucky life. He was a supervillain. Yeah. Uncle Barry would be so happy to find that out, and-

Oh _shit, _speaking of Uncle Barry-

See, it had gone like this. Wally had been born into the West family on November 11th, 1994. The world was happy and rainbows had flown and little hearts popped and choruses of angels sung, blah blah blah. He'd grown up with his adoring mother and loving father, transfixed by his idol Flash and with a close connection in the form of his Uncle Barry, an apparent 'bestie' to the superhero. The very epitome of a perfect childhood. His fascination with the Flash had quickly grown, and he'd asked as many questions as he could to Uncle Barry- who was an expert on the subject- and then finally decided to become a superhero himself.

At the age of ten he'd recreated the experiment and gained the powers of superspeed. This was a month _after _Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris moved to Central City to kick-start Aunt Iris' career in journalism and help Uncle's Barry job as a forensics' specialist. Wally had been forced to navigate his powers alone.

Things got bad.

Yeah, Dad had got all mad and really, the classic of asshole parenting. Because apparently Wally was a freak or whatever for having superspeed. Hah. Nice irony, there- he'd done it to impress the world and it had backfired horribly. Anyway, this made Mom mad, but in a different way, since she got depressed_insane_mad and that was kind of worse than Dad.

Who was he kidding? Seeing Mom like that, every day, distant and terrifying and sick and _not his mom _was far worse than Dad.

Anyway. This had amazingly not affected school life, his grades staying as high as usual due to a genius science mind and crazy imagination the English teachers loved; the rest of his work was boosted up by those two grades, so no one really cared if he missed a couple days because of recovering from these cracked ribs or that bruised bone. Unfortunately, he was the class clown and popular to the extreme. His friends noticed the bruises, noticed the reluctance to speak about his mother, and noticed the sadness slowly growing inside him and the twitches far too fast that were his new superpower.

It was a problem, and the closest friends found out. They were loyal enough not to say anything and helped him out a few times but their constant worry was- dragging. He still liked them, they were still awesome, but- he could sense them tipping towards the 'tell the teachers' line and the move to Central came just in time.

In the meantime, Mom got worse. And she- she _was _ill. She had schizopherna, or something, a mixed personality disorder and combined with depression to turn her into- into- a scathing monster, or a distant ghost, or a frail watermark. And with both parents out of a job _Wally _had to support them. Somehow. But no one would employ him and vigilantism- which he had been planning to get into the second he mastered his powers completely- would pay for nothing. So he turned to the dark side and used superspeed to whisk behind counters and clean out the till. Yeah, _stealing. _He used half the money to preserve his family- Dad's beer, bills for them all, groceries, clothes, Mom's little things like perfume and dresses and cheap crap jewellery- and saved the other half, counting it obsessively and hiding it until the time when he could- when he was old enough to get out of there, go to college, become all the thigns he'd ever dreamed of and his dad had ever laughed at.

And it _would _happen.

His father, sometime in this, got a job in Central City. They moved there when Wally was fifteen.

Like he said before, Central City. Home of the Flash. Near to the rest of the Justice League and newly arisen Young Justice. _Just _what he needed to advance his supervillain career and continue supplying for his family. Now he had to try twice as much to avoid getting caught, cue balaclava and hat and coat and contacts.

You could never be too careful.

Anyway, Central City- yeah, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris. Yeah, 'we should meet up and go back to being a proper family!' Yeah, 'let's reunite and pretend we never abandoned you!' Yeah, _right. _Except Aunt Iris didn't seem to get that, and Uncle Barry still didn't know that Wally knew that he was the Flash.

(Well. Duh. First, Uncle Barry was way too fast for a guy his age. Second, when he moved to Central City a new superhero appeared there and had the same colour hair. Third, he knew way too much about the Flash's experiment. Also: Aunt Iris was always getting the latest scoop on him, and _sure _it was just luck. Wally had figured it out when he was thirteen and if he ever told them he knew he'd definitely recommend better precautions.)

So... Wally had got totally off track. Why was he thinking about his whole depressing life story again? Damnit, whatever. He was doing something... important.

Right.

Wally opened his unpacked bag (they'd been in Central City for just under a month and he hadn't unpacked _anything_) and pulled out a too-big hoodie, shrugging it on and grinning foolishly at the long sleeves which draped over his hands and hid those pretty bruises.

And they were totally pretty.

He pulled out a half eaten chocolate bar from one pocket and stared at it hard for a moment, before stuffing it in his mouth and moaning at the feeling of something in his stomach. He was due for his seventh lunch with Aunt Iris in a few minutes (that was the 'important' thing and also the thing which made him think _oh shit speaking of Uncle Barry..._) but you could never have enough food, as everyone knew. Also, he was meeting Uncle Barry after at their place for, like, the second time since he'd moved. Exciting stuff, right?

Wally opened the door to his room and speeded out, stopping outside the door of their apartment to look with narrowed eyes at the clock. Yeah, Dad definitely wouldn't be back until much later that evening; but could he leave Mom alone for that long?

He opened the door slightly to her room. She was curled up like a little girl in the corner, sleeping with her head to one side. Flashy jewellery ringed her neck and wrists, and make up was plastered badly over her face. Oh. She'd had another episode. "Bye, Mom." He whispered softly and backed out.

Wally blurred to the diner he was meeting Aunt Iris at and pretended the hot pricks at the back of his eyes were from going too fast and not tears.

_**-X-L-A-W-**_**W-A-L-L-Y-**_**A-W-S-H-I-T-**_

"Hi, Wally!" Aunt Iris grinned at him. Far too happy to see him, but whatever. He grinned back.

"Hey, Aunt Iris. How's stuff?"

"It's good." She put a hand on his back and gently steered him to a table at the back of the brightly coloured diner. "I got an upgrade on my pay grade last night because of the latest story on Flash. Speaking of him, do you remember when you used to love him?"

"Yeah." Wally gave her a lazy grin as he slid into an empty seat and began fiddling with his too long sleeves. "Not too fussed about superheroes these days. Well, the real ones, anyway. Comic ones are awesome."

"Really?" she raised her eyebrows in challenge. "I guess you're talking about the Avengers vs. Justice League argument, then."

"Hell yeah." Wally leaned forwards, eyes glinting. "First off. Iron Man could beat Batman any day. Neither have powers, both are rich, but Iron Man's a genius and he built a freaking metal suit."

Aunt Iris pursed her lips but conceded. "Well, maybe, but Wonder Woman could easily beat Black Widow. She doesn't even have powers!"

"Fine, but Hawkeye beats Green Arrow."

"Flash beats Thor."

"No way! Thor's a god!"

The waiter came over before Wally could fight this point more, asking them what they wanted with a notebook and pen in hand. "Wally?" Aunt Iris asked.

"Ah, two... no, three chicken wraps and two helpings of cheesy fries. Please."

"I don't even know where you put it." Aunt Iris sighed, looking up and down his six foot skinny as hell frame, but knowing all too well he could eat it all. "Fine. I'll have a... ham salad, please."

"Any drinks?"

"Just water, thanks."

"Alright, I'll be back shortly." Said the waiter and disappeared. Wally opened his mouth to tell Aunt Iris how badly Thor could thrash Flash (though, hey, Wally had the same powers and he totally thought speedsters could _beat _anyone but it was the principle of disagreeing with Aunt Iris that was the whole point) when she turned to him and leaned forwards with a concerned look on her face. Shit, that was never good. "Wally, your uncle and I have been talking and we would really like to meet up with your parents."

Wally felt like face planting. "Ah, sorry, they're just really busy-"

Aunt Iris stared hard. "We both know that's bullshit."

"Ohmygawd, you _swore_!" Wally shouted, jumping up. "That is it. You totally owe me twenty dollars."

"What?"

"From that time when I was seven and had a birthday party and said this is the best fucking birthday ever and you told me not to swear and I said but everyone else does and you said _I _don't and I said yes you do and you said I'll give you twenty dollars if you ever catch me swearing _so there._" Wally sank back into his chair, arms crossed and triumphant smirk on face. Aunt Iris just gaped at him.

"That was years ago!" she finally protested. "I barely remember that!"

"I do." He grinned, laying a hand flat on the table. "Hand it over, auntie."

She sighed and rifled in her bag before counting out twenty dollars and depositing it in his palm. Wally's hand closed around it and he pushed it into his pocket, sticking his tongue out at his aunt as she rolled her eyes at him and forgot about that niggling issue of his parents.

Well. Hopefully.

The waiter came over with a mound of plates, laying on the table and flicking a dubious look at Wally. He ignored it as he pulled the first plate towards him and crammed half of the wrap into his mouth, dripping sauce as he chewed then swallowed. He groaned in appreciation as he grabbed a handful of fries and clumped it into his mouth, swallowing it down with a gulp of water before he started on the rest of his wrap, chewing obnoxiously with no regard for manners.

Manners. What did that word even mean?

"Sometimes I think no one actually feeds you." Aunt Iris sighed, picking up a fork and knife and beginning on her salad. Wally winced at that and pretended he hadn't heard, because most of the time the only food in the house was things he'd bought out of his stolen money, and whenever his dad was home he wasn't allowed to eat. At least when he started school- which he began tomorrow- he'd be entitled for free school meals so would be guaranteed something to eat every school day.

With that happy thought, Wally finished his first plate and pulled the next one over to him, giving a shameless grin to Aunt Iris as he ripped his second wrap in half again and swallowed whole one piece. And damnit, those cheese fries were _nice. _If he ever got rich, he was coming here every day.

"So you're starting school tomorrow, right?" his aunt enquired, swallowing a small mouthful of salad and smiling at him. Wally, mouth full, just nodded. "Where are you going?"

Wally swallowed his mouthful before telling her, "Central High." And diving into the final plate of delicious chicken wrap.

"Oh, I know some kids who go there!" she nodded. "They come round a lot. Barry knows them better than me, I've no idea how he met them but they're all pretty good friends. They're all in the same grade, as well- your one, I think. Would you like me to ask them to, I don't know, help you round a bit in your first days?"

Wally sighed and swallowed again, reaching for his glass and quickly pulling up his sleeve when it fell down at the movement. Luckily, Aunt Iris didn't see so he went ahead and drank. "Look, thanks and all," he said to her when he finished. "But if I make friends I would rather it's because of me."

"Yes, I forgot you were a social butterfly and didn't need any help in that department." His aunt winked.

"_Butterfly? _No. Caterpillar. A social caterpillar."

"A caterpillar? Really, Wally?"

"Yup." He confirmed seriously. "They also have loads of legs, which is awesome."

"Butterflies can _fly._"

"Butterflies are for girls."

"Not male ones. Anyway, that's sexist."

"Fine, butterflies are for kids. You know, along with rainbows and sparkly love hearts and fairytales."

"How can you say that about rainbows and call yourself a scientist?! Rainbows are extremely intricate things which are made when a beam of light goes into water and is split across the spectrum according to-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Fine, not rainbows. Replace that with... dolls."

"One word. Chuckie."

"Seriously?" he stared at her, aghast. "You're using that one?"

"Yup." She grinned.

"Well, whatever. I have one for teddies."

"Let me guess, it begins with a T and ends with a D and is three letters long with an E in the middle. And is also a movie for childish, foul mouthed, immature teenagers."

"What? It's a good film!" Wally defended.

"Sure it is." Aunt Iris rolled her eyes as Wally just grinned at her and slurped his water. "I don't even know how we got into this, anyway."

"I do." Wally chirped. "You were talking about your teenage friends who go to the same school I go to, and that you want me to be friends with them, because I am a social butterfly, and I said caterpillars are better, and-"

"Wally. It. Was. A. Figure. Of. Speech."

"The 'social butterfly' thing or the 'I don't know how we even got into this' thing?"

"Both."

Wally just laughed and picked up a tomato, popping it in his mouth nonchalantly and chewing slowly. His aunt watched him for a moment before her face grew serious and she leaned forwards, closer to him.

"Wally." Aunt Iris said. "We're worried about you."

"Mmph? What?"

"I said, we're worried about you. You've only just moved here, and, well... we don't what you getting mixed up with bad types, Wally."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he scowled, instantly on guard.

His aunt hit back just as firm. "It means we have noticed your bruises, and since you don't go to school yet the only places you could've got them are on the street, and we know very well about these 'initiation' things gangs have these days. I don't want you to ruin your life, Wally."

He scowled harder at her. "I'm not doing anything like that! And even if I was, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"Yes, it would. We're your family and we _care _for you, Wally."

"You barely even know me!" he exploded. "A few lunches and you think, I dunno, we're somehow really close now. _You _ditched _me _and there's no changing that." Wally saw her expression and backtracked hurriedly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"You really think that?" she set down her glass, looking upset. "It was for work, Wally. I'm sorry, we didn't think-"

Yeah, no. It wasn't their fault. As a kid he'd blamed them for not coming and... and saving him, adopting him, all those stupid daydreams he'd had when young and foolish. They weren't to blame, of course.

"Naw, I'm not fussed. It's fine. I really didn't mean it. Sorry."

She gave him a long, hard look, but he ducked his head and finished the last of the cheese fries. "Alright. You want to go back to our place and see your uncle, then?"

"Ah, sure." Wally shrugged. He was kinda looking forwards to it. He'd 'reconnected' with his aunt a lot in the lazy days of pre-school time since he'd moved here, but only seen Uncle Barry a coupla times; and knowing he was Flash cast his uncle in a much cooler light. "Let's go!"

_**-X-L-A-W-**_**W-A-L-L-Y-**_**A-W-S-H-I-T-**_

That afternoon had been... fun. Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris had asked for help cleaning out their basement and Wally had complied, having nothing to do until school started the next day. He'd found some old fireworks and fixed them up with a quick dose of extra carbon and some tied strips of magnesium in case of faded brilliance; they'd set the yard on fire and, well.

Yeah. It was fun.

Wally had visited the stores after that, slipping on his balaclava and coat- he didn't bother with the red contact lenses (there for extra paranoia but the colour just because of awesomeness), it wasn't like the Flash was going to get him tonight when the lawn was crisping to ash- and darting in to sneak behind the counter and blur when the guy was looking away, snatching up a handful and stuffing the cash in an empty bag. He repeated the action in quick succession with every store along the street until his bag was full, then sped along through the darkness while chaos erupted behind them.

(Ok, that had been a tiny bit awesome.)

Wally ran around the city once, enjoying the freedom of wind through the fabric and on his hands, darting through streets and on top of roofs and through crowds and _oh, _it was so worth it when his dad was kicking the shit out of him for being late.

At least, that's what he told himself later.

"Wally?" his mom had obviously woken up, eyes wide and glimmering in the half light as she shuffled carefully into his room, hands held out in front of her like she was afraid she would bump into something. Wally started and quickly turned so she couldn't see the newly black bruises all up his side, because she got scared when she saw things like that.

"Hey, mom." He said. "I saw Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris today. It was fun."

"Really?" she shuffled closer, a smile on her creased face. It suddenly crumpled, tears springing out of squeezed shut eyes as she lurched towards him and wrapped arms around him. Wally turned a groan into a harsh exhale of pain when her ring covered fingers dug right into his bruises. "Why did you have to do it, Wally?" she sobbed into his shoulder. "We could have been normal, and you just- had to- ruin- _everything!_"

Her fingers dug in harsher and Wally realised with a sick turn of his stomach that his mother knew very well he had bruises there, and she was pushing on them on purpose because she wanted him to hurt.

It wasn't- it wasn't her _fault, _though. She was ill. That was- that was it.

"Wally." Mom released him and stepped back, eyes cruel and hard. "You change, understand? You change back from being a freak _right now, _do you understand?"

"Yes, Mom." He said softly, brokenly. She stared at him, her look full of pure venom before she spun on her heel and left his room.

Wally sank back into the wall and covered his eyes with one hand. His mother had that complex form of schizophrenia and- and it meant she was always split into one of three moods; there was distant and wandering, where she turned into a little girl and dressed up and put on make up and forgot how to talk. There was normal, those precious and precarious moments when she forgot her husband was an asshole drunkard and pretended everything was alright, pretended she loved her son and nothing had gone to hell. She'd make pancakes for him those special times, mounds of pancakes and they'd sit next to each other and laugh at any old inane thing before she slipped back into the first mood.

And there was the third mood, this last one. Where she hated him, because he was a freak. Where she remembered everything about their situation and blamed it all on him.

(He'd cried himself to sleep the first few times it had happened. Then he realised she meant none of it, she was just... ill.)

Wally sighed and rested his head against the wall, wrapping his arms around his legs and tucking tight into himself- the feeling of safety far outweighed the pain that came with the movement- and then shut his eyes and fell asleep.

When he started dreaming, he wasn't sure... sure about anything, really. But it had just- started, in a slow drizzle of colour that slowly filled around him in a soft mixture of awareness. It built up to a scene of bright musk and shadowy lights, a crowd deathly still and eyes directed towards the middle, which shone with white sun brilliance, outlining the figure of a man dressed tall and black with a tall hat on top of his head and comical moustache glued onto his top tip, tilted slightly to the left with bristled red hairs occasionally dropping onto the clean white lapels beneath. He banged his cane against the wooden floor once, a boom sounding throughout the... the circus. Kids craned forwards for a closer look, candy floss momentarily forgotten as brightly dressed acrobats streamed into the middle.

Wally was frozen and drifting and caught the eyes of a young acrobat standing poised at the back, black eyes gleaming innocently from behind a silver edged mask.

The dream ended.

**-0-0-0-**

**Review!**

**Next chapter: Dick starts school and finds that his punishment for last years... **_**incident **_**(which was totally Conner's fault) is guiding the new kid round. Except Wally turns out to be pretty awesome, so. **

**Also, damn those secrets. **

**EDITED a number of times.**


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